To destroy, one must create
by Danatheleseus
Summary: The Autobots were destroyed. The Decepticons are victorious. And a forgotten minority with an outlawed ability becomes the only way for the Cybertronian race to survive.
1. Chapter 1

Improvisational Style of Music onlined to confusion. Programming was missing. Programming long suppressed was active. Creation protocols were online. He was in heat. His memories – his memories felt - wrong. Fragmented, shattered…Incomplete. He keened distress-confusion. A form moved – a mech, not-kin, one of the outsiders, a flyer – Enemy! His memories shouted, scenes of struggle, of pain, fear, death! Enemy-captor, enemy-victor! He flinched, expecting pain.

Instead a blurt of noise – Outsider speak; he should understand - a clawed hand! It followed as he tried to jerk away, shield face with arms, hands, can't – restrained – no escape! No – No pain?

The hand touched his face, his chin, gentle claws, no pain. He calmed down, let the hand move his face as it wished. Over-stimulated circuitry made him shake-tremble but – no pain. Pleasure? Captor not hurting? What could captor want with defeated enemy that he would be gentle?

Heat-programming had an answer-but – gentleness not necessary; not expected. He was captive – he was defeated enemy. To create - to be forced to create, perhaps. But to be pleased? Captor had all power. Captor could do as Captor wished – Captor wished to be gentle? Wished to give pleasure?

That – that didn't seem right. While he thought, his body moved as the other wished, as the heat compelled. Hands stroked, petted, posed, as he tried to understand warped memories. He was pulled to a berth, pushed down onto his back, his chassis opening, his body willing and eager under the influence of the heat programming. His mind though, worried at the distorted impressions he remembered. They were not of a gentle creature. A proud, fierce, clever creature, yes. One that could offer much to a creation. But – not gentle. Not to his enemies, not to his clan, not to – to – clutch mates? Bond-mates? Two that flew with him, at his side. Not gentle with them, not where any could see. Why gentle with captive, with defenseless enemy? His mind was suddenly pulled back to his body, forced to feel the orgasm of his body, processors overloaded with pleasure, until overwhelmed, he passed out.

Starscream was very pleased with his new pet. When Megatron was passing out the defeated Autobots, he had remembered that old rumour about Polyhexian-framed mechs being perfect berth-toys. He had fumed and fussed about not having that frigid Praxian tactician, ranting about status and rank; Sure enough Megatron had claimed Prowl for himself, using the excuse of the Praxian being the highest ranked Autobot left after the Prime's death. Leaving the way clear for him to claim the Autobot third in command, the pretty Polyhexian Jazz, for his own use. And what a nice bit of trim he was. So sweet and pliant - after a few programming changes. Having Hook reprogram the little slut was well worth the favors it cost. He pulled the smaller frame close, stroking the warm chassis gently. Very worth the cost. The little thing was so sweet. He remembered the innocent confusion and fear on its face when the little mech first onlined, how it changed so quickly into eagerness. A perfect little slut, willing and eager for his touch, his spark.


	2. Chapter 2

When Improvisational Style of Music onlined again, he was alone. He whimpered a complaint to himself as he moved. He was still bound, this time attached to the berth. His hands and arms were in front of him at least. For a moment he considered trying to free himself, but decided he needed more information. His memories were more coherent, but still incomplete. He needed fuel and to kindle again. Improvisation looked around. Where was the one that had taken him? He wondered if that one had claimed him or if he would be used by others as well. Improvisation shuddered. Better to have one master and learn how to use him than to be used by many. Especially a master that gentle. The increased chance of escape would not make up for the abuse.

The small room was still empty. Improvisation started to sing a lament, trying to get attention. It worked, a winged form came through a door in the opposite wall. Improvisation mentally marked the area, the door was invisible from where he was. The other mech was dark, purple Improvisation thought. The mech also had a nasty grin on his face. He remembered this one. Bond-mate, clutch mate, whatever he was to the first one. Improvisation also thought this one had done cruel things, both to enemies and allies. Suddenly attracting his attention seemed less appealing. Still.

Improvisation sat up as much as he could and cooed seductive-invitation at the purple mech. The mech looked surprised, the smile disappearing. Improvisation added a wiggle of his chassis, and keened a desire-want softly, looking as harmless as he knew how. Hopefully he could get at least one need taken care of!

The purple mech was making those harsh noises again- outsider speak. Improvisation really wished he could understand him. Oh wait! That square container. It was fuel! Would the mech give it to him? Improvisation looked hopefully at it, then at the mech's face and tried a three part whimper of hunger-need-pleading. The mech was coming closer, smiling again. Why did he have the fuel, Improvisation wondered for a moment before his thoughts focused on the much needed energy and the increasing strength of the heat programming.

Yes! Fuel! Improvisation gulped the fuel down. He needed the energy desperately, to support the new spark and create more. And then, clawed hands were turning him onto his back. He went willingly, eagerly, programming demanding that he kindle again. His spark exposed almost as soon as his back hit the berth.

More of the grating sounds of Outsider speak, why was this mech so slow? Improvisation arched his back, trying to get closer to the other. Finally, a chassis opening, the other mech bending over him. Improvisation lost himself to the merge.

Skywarp was confused. He had expected to taunt the little glitch, maybe force it, maybe make it beg for energon. Instead the little slut had started coming on to him as soon as he got into the room. It went for the energon like it was starving, and then opened up for him like it was desperate for him. Where was the defiant autobot infiltrator? How had Starscream gotten such a greedy little whore out of it? His trine leader was more cunning than he thought.

Suddenly a whine attracted his attention. The greedy little slut was whimpering again. Skywarp wondered if he could get another go at it. Maybe if he gave it another cube, it would open up for him again?


	3. Chapter 3

Reasonably well fueled, Improvisational Style of Music watched the purple flier mech leave and took stock of his situation. He still didn't know how many mechs would be using him, but they seemed to be trying to keep him well fed. His memories didn't have any new-sparks on either side, perhaps they needed a mech with creater-coding? If they didn't have one anymore, it would explain how careful they were with him.

If they needed something from him, it would give him an edge. Maybe he could leverage it? He would need to understand and speak their language, to really bargain. Improvisation wondered what had happened. He used to know that language, he was sure of it. He remembered speaking with all types of non-clade mechs. Damage from the battle?

Perhaps if he reviewed his memories, it would make more sense? And why didn't he remember his own side having new-sparks? He remembered younglings or mechlings, some in huge clumsy frames, fighting. Where did they come from?

Improvisation curled up and got as comfortable on the berth as he could. He decided to start at the battle. Maybe it would explain how he came to be here.

He was not fighting with his clade, but he thought of them like clade. No sparkbonds between them, but he still trusted them and they trusted him. His leader… His leader was a large mech, an outsider, blue and red and _tall_, but his memories of him were like those for a creator or grand-creator. Someone that he would follow anywhere, that he would kill or die for. Not just respect but affection. A soft lament started as he remembered seeing his leader die. The enemy leader, a dull grey too much like the color of death, beating his leader – Optimum? Optimism? The fear as Improvisation watched the mech tearing into his chassis, using an inbuilt weapon to blast at his spark. Then the panic as his leader, his friend, went grey. Outsider speak in his head, from coms, a trusted voice, a – loved voice? Improvisation stopped singing. He had a beloved? A cohort mate?

Improvisation carefully felt for the sparkbonds that he knew cohorts formed. It wasn't there. In fact… He only had three sparkbonds? What had happened to his clade? His creators and kin? Were they all dead? No, the bonds were familiar. His clutchmates. No cohort bonds? His feelings for the voice, the mech who spoke…Perhaps they were still courting?

Improvisation exvented heavily. It still made no sense. Back to the battle. The fliers were enemies. He remembered them there, above the ground, with a dark blue third. His side had flyers as well, but fewer. The first one that took him, the gentle one. He was leader of the fliers? Yes, he remembered that one as leader, best of the enemy fliers. Better than his sides fliers. The fliers on his side were young. Not younglings, mechlings maybe? No, created. They were created mechs.

Why was he allied to created mechs?

Were all outsider mechs created? If they were created mechs, they wouldn't even know what creator coding was! Why had he followed the blue and red mech, Optimist, whatever, then. Where was his clade? His creators, and other kin?

Improvisation shook himself. He had sparkbonds. Only three, but he had kin. So few. Clutchmates, not creator bonds. If his creators were gone, had he joined the outsider mechs for safety? Had they reprogrammed him? Compulsion coding, making him what they wanted. If he had been damaged, perhaps it had been broken? Outsider mechs would not know how his kind worked, he had been told.

No, he remembered speaking to outsider mecha in a prison. After the battle, surely. Mechs he cared for being dragged off. One colored like him, with wings? Not a flyer, but still wings. The one with the voice. The one he loved. Enemy mechs he… taunted? Was he trying to get them to come in? A hostage or escape attempt? With so many watching, better fueled and armed, that would be stupid. Better to stay quiet, plot and plan. Unless, perhaps, he thought he was protecting younglings?

Perhaps that was when he was damaged? If they beat him for his stupidity. He wasn't damaged now, though. The flier, he came and took him. Improvisation knew the flier, spoke to him, he understood the outsider mech, and the mech took him out of the cell. He fought. Why was he so scared?

Improvisation finally gave up. His processors ached and his thoughts just went in circles. He shook himself, uncurled and forced himself into recharge.


	4. Chapter 4

Improvisational Style of Music woke up when to the sound of the door opening and some mech entering. He looked up to find that it was the first mech, the flier that had been so nice to him. Improvisation warbled a happy greeting. The flier seemed startled at first but then smirked and came forward. Improvisation tilted his head. The smirk seemed, if not cruel, then self-satisfied. The mech was pleased with him, not surprised.

Of course, the flier had already seen him after whatever had happened. And Improvisation was too happy to see him again to wonder about his expression. He probably _wasn't_ available to any mech that wanted a taste.

He could have waited a while before the heat-programing got too annoying but Improvisation sat up as much as he could, twisting around so that he was on his knees. He cooed seductive-invitation at the other mech and stroked his own chassis flirtatiously, fingering the seams. Maybe the other mech would be foolish enough to let his hands go? Not that Improvisation had any plans to run at this point, with no idea where he was, where his clade or potential mate were, or even a good grasp on the situation. Or that he would have been more than slightly inconvenienced by the chains if he had decided to escape.

It would be nice to be able to move about the room freely though.

The flier mech strutted forward. Improvisation hid a wince. Outsider speak was always grating, but this poor mechs voice was just horrid. The voice triggered a memory though. The flier mech's name had to do with screaming. Something screaming? Improvisation idly mused for a moment before he was distracted by the mech pulling out a cube of fuel.

Improvisation barely finished gulping the fuel down before the mech reached out greedily to touch him. He kept a vapid smile on his face as the other stroked and caressed him. Clever claws dipped into seams and teased at joints. Much better technique than the second mech. Not that the second flier mech had a technique beyond open up and bend down.

Improvisation made encouraging coos and hums, as he absently tried to remember the other mechs name. Screaming sun? No, a generic sun, not Cybertron's specific sun… Screaming Star…. Scream of Stars? Something like that. He nuzzled the other to show his appreciation. Yes, he had lucked out this time. Apparently the mech enjoyed causing his partners pleasure. Improvisation cooed sweetly as finally the mech opened his chassis and he could merge sparks.

* * *

><p>Starscream rolled over with a self-satisfied sigh. Yes, turning the Autobot into a pet was one of his best ideas. He felt Jazz move and looked over to find him actually trying to cuddle into Starscream's side. With a chuckle, Starscream sent the code releasing Jazz's shackles. After all, the pretty little thing was no threat.<p>

Jazz made another of those strange sounds and then cuddled into his side. Starscream absently stroked his pet's back before drifting into recharge. No, the pretty little mech was no threat at all.

* * *

><p>Improvisation felt the flier shift into recharge. For a moment he was tempted to kill the enemy so temptingly within reach, but that would be foolish. After all, the mech wasn't likely to damage him and seemed easy to manipulate. Escape was unlikely to be successful. Improvisation didn't know what the enemy clade planned for the clade he had joined, but certainly they would find some way to punish him. Safer, easier, to cooperate for now. If they left him alone for long periods of time, perhaps he could find a way to sneak places, find out more.<p>

He remembered sneaking in the enemies nest before. Tunnels in the walls, the ceilings, which were little used. If he could find an entrance out of sight? Find his cadre, how the others were treated. Perhaps even find a source of energon or minerals, metals, so that he didn't have to worry if the created mechs would give him what he needed for the newsparks. Perhaps even find a way to escape without worrying about supporting the newsparks after.

Improvisation sighed soundlessly, and settled down to recharge. Hopefully he would get more fuel when the Screaming Star mech woke up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Notes:**** The previous chapter was modified from its original posting. I would strongly suggest you read it again (the last paragraph specifically) if you have read this story before.**

Improvisational Style of Music fell into a routine. Scream of Stars would use him at least one an orn, but not more than twice. The purple flyer, Sky Warper, Rifted Sky, was harder to predict but never appeared when Scream of Stars was there or at least two joor before or after his leader. Usually it was midorn, but sometimes he never appeared at all.

Improvisation hated when that happened. Rift in Sky would always bring at least one extra ration of fuel. Supporting the five new-sparks kindled by the flyers took more and more of Improvisation's energy and the lack of minerals to supplement him meant the he was forming the spark chambers from his own frame, leaving him listless and irritable. He tried to hide it from the flyers. They had been reasonable gentle so far, but Improvisation did not forget that he was completely in their power. He had no desire for them to decide he needed to be reminded of how helpless he was.

Improvisation had yet to find a way to escape his room, but he had little energy to look. It left him plenty of time to index his memories. He knew who his beloved was, Prowler. He knew what his status was in Optimist's clade-that-was-not-a-clade. It had been very high, second only to Optimist's cohort mate Elite One as scout and advisor. His Prowler was of equal status, second to cohort mate Ultimate Majesty. Which was such a stupid name that Improvisation knew he had gotten it wrong. His cadre had all been with him, but of less status. They had all joined long after the clade had dispersed. His creators were long dead. He had joined because of Optimist. He had trusted Optimist, and his cadre still lived, even as the rest of his clade had died.

He also remembered more of Optimist's killer and his followers. The grey mech used the name of one of the first thirteen. The betrayer's name. It fit him well. From Improvisation's memories, his word could not be trusted. He killed his own casually. He cared more for himself than his clade, sending them to die but seizing any chance to survive for himself. And the leader of the fliers hated him. Scream of Stars, who had claimed Improvisation. Improvisation shivered. The grey mech may have needed Scream of Stars in battle then, but now? What would happen the next time Scream of Stars challenged him? How long before he killed the mech that claimed Improvisation and what was likely to happen to Improvisation then?

Improvisation had lost his Optimist and was losing his optimism.

* * *

><p>Starscream had noticed something was wrong with his pet. Twice now the little thing had actually <em>growled<em> at him. Jazz wasn't recovering his mind, he was still wonderfully pliant under Starscreams hands and in the berth, but the little thing had no energy or stamina, in addition to being so irritable. He acted like he was starving, but Starscream had made sure he got enough energy for his frametype and level of activity. After all, Jazz was mostly just lying around all orn. He couldn't be using that much energy.

He had made arrangements to bring his pet to Hook and have him looked at. Maybe it was a virus or some programming error Hook caused when he reprogrammed the little slut.

It had better not be something from Skywarp. Starscream wasn't going to share his pet with his stupid trinemate. The idiot was too likely to damage him.


	6. Chapter 6

When Improvisational Style of Music was pulled to his pedes after the usual cube of energon instead of being shoved down into the berth, he got nervous. This was new. New was unlikely to be good. The flier shoved him toward the entrance to his little closet of a berth room. Was he going to get rid of Improvisation? Had he decided that Improvisation wasn't worth keeping?

Improvisation didn't resist Scream of Stars as his hands were chained together in front of him, but he kept his optics open as he was pushed through a much larger, high-ceilinged room with a wide berth and cluttered work surfaces to a wide, grimy hallway. Improvisation was pulled along, stiff joints and overstressed engines straining to keep up with the fliers quick strutting strides. His energy ebbed alarmingly fast as he struggled to keep up. The dark hallways seemed to fly past, with Improvisation only able to get occasional glimpses of hulking dark frames with red optics staring after them or smaller blue-opticed mechs cowering, with scratched and dented armor, chains restraining them.

He nearly fell over when they stopped, his engine whining with strain and stress. They were in a large cavernous room. Improvisation could smell spilt energon and ozone. He shivered, armor flaring and resettling restlessly, as he tried to cool overheating systems. He only grew more unsettled as he looked around, ignoring the meaningless screeching from above him. There were flat-topped platforms, berths, but with cuffs and strange devices attached. Counters with more strange devices, including saws and sharp probes. Improvisation was very sure this was not a place he wanted to be.

As a yellow and purple mech entered the room from a doorway leading farther in, he carefully started trying to fade back a little, twisting the shackles subtly so that opening them would be less noticeable. As the two mechs started yelling at one another, he started trying to pick the lock, using his palm magnets to shift the internal mechanisms. Scream of Stars grabbed him before he was finished, however. Improvisation screeched in surprise and tried to wiggle out of his grasp. When he was dragged to one of the berths, he started kicking, anything to get away. Scream of Stars slammed him onto the platforms top, where he found himself unable to move, magnetized to the surface. Finally he subsided, panting from overheating systems, without the energy to move.

More unintelligible Outsider speak from both mechs. Improvisation whimpered to himself. This was even worse than he had imagined. Instead of beatings and starvation, he was going to be taken apart. His frame twitched, lacking the strength or energy to fight. The other mech slowly waved something over him, making Improvisation try to flinch. More noise. Some strange instrument of torture was produced. Despite Improvisation's hissing and squirming, it was forced between armor plates, into his protomass. Glowing liquid traveled down it, into him. Improvisation stared in horror at it.

What were they doing to him? Now the strange mech had a cable and was forcing open one of his ports. After a final shudder, Improvisation went limp. There was nothing he could do. They had immobilized him, trapped him on this platform, where they could torture him however they wanted.

Half remembered horror tales came to his mind, stories of what could happen if Outsider mechs caught one of the clade, if they recognized what they were. His systems started stuttering as he fell further into panic and shock. The empty fuel tanks, the panic and desperation, combined to send him offline. Improvisation welcomed it. If he was lucky, maybe it would be permanent, keeping him from the horror of knowing his creations were destroyed.

* * *

><p>"What is wrong with him?" Starscream screeched at Hook. The panic his pet had shown, the fear he had been shaking with, then the little mech just… turning off. Starscream had grown fond of his pet, as foolish as that was. "What just happened?" Hook grunted.<p>

"He fainted, stupid. It happens when a mech's systems are overstressed from nearly starving to death." Hook said rudely as he glared at the Seeker. Starscream sputtered. "It doesn't help that he has the worst case of spark parasite I have ever heard of."

"Spark – Spark parasite?!" Starscream screeched. "What – Is it contagious? I've never heard of it!" He sputtered, backing up.

"This variation is what happens when you have unprotected spark intercourse too often" Hook snorted, turning back to his scanner. "Especially with multiple mechs at a time. Did you throw an orgy with the whole Seeker squad? He has five extra sparks drawing on his systems." Starscream hissed. He hadn't let anyone touch his pet. Hook ignored Starscream as he continued his scans. "Odd. He is showing some weird results. His systems are reporting a shocking lack of some minerals, but they are still present according to the physical scan. By Unicron, what were you doing with his spark?" Starscream sputtered in shock. "These minerals make up his spark chamber."

Starscream was almost ready to attack the Constructicon when he suddenly paused. A half remembered myth demanded his attention. Hook yelled for Ratchet. He paused and watched as the enslaved autobot came in. When they started trying to pry open Jazz's chassis however, he decided he had enough of being ignored.

"What do you mean, five extra sparks?" He hissed, yanking a prybar from Hook's grasp. "What is a spark parasite and what did you mean when you said its caused by interfacing."


End file.
